


Razo's Razo

by iluvdanimal



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluvdanimal/pseuds/iluvdanimal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Razo wasn't always a bounty hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Razo's Razo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littledust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/gifts).



**Razo** _(noun)_ from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

A  _**razo** _  (Old Occitan  [ [raˈzu] ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:IPA) , literally "cause", "reason") was a short piece of  [ Occitan ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Occitan) [ prose ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prose)  detailing the circumstances of a  [ troubadour ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Troubadour)  composition. A  _razo_ normally introduced an individual poem, acting as a prose preface and explanation.

 

* * *

“It may be a long while before I can see you again,” he rumbled in her ear.

Razo breathed in contentedly, drawing Ibis's scent into her lungs and letting it permeate a moment before she exhaled. If it was going to be a long while until his next visit, then she was going to consume every moment of this one.

“What do you know about your new captain?” she asked.

“Same as any other captain,” he replied, turning in the little bed so they could be face-to-face. “Human. Probably former Legion. Since Abukesh they've been coming in droves. Buddy of mine was set for a promotion until they stuck some ex-Legion shithead in the job, half as qualified and twice as arrogant.”

But Ibis really did not want to talk about the new captain that would be installed next month – or it could be three months from now, one never knew, the way the Legion worked. It didn't matter much either way – as a Splice he'd never attain his own Captaincy in the Aegis, and even if whoever was in charge was blatantly discriminatory, no one would bat an eye. All he wanted was to lay next to Razo, run his fingers over her velvet skin, kiss her supple mouth, make her call out his name in pleasure.

It was her job to give it, by whatever means was asked of her; rarely did her clients – Madam DeNue's word, not her own – ask that she take any for herself. The first time Ibis had visited her, he not only insisted but ensured that she climaxed. Since then, for anyone else, she faked it.

She rolled Ibis underneath her and straddled his hips, kissing a path from his chin to his navel before sitting up straight and smiling at him. “How long did you pay for?”

“She'd only give me two hours,” he replied as he gripped her hips. “It's been a half hour, so she'll start knocking on the door in about twenty minutes.”

Razo scowled down at him. “What did she charge?”

“Razo-”

“How much?”

“Nothing you can do,” he said, and he sat up to take her face in his hands, lowering his voice. “Please, my beautiful butterfly, remember that we have a plan. Don't upset it. Trust me.”

Razo looked down at his broad, dark chest; his reminder calmed her. Madam DeNue had stolen Razo from the kitchen of her farmhouse, and Razo had never forgotten it. Not that what she did now bothered her much – service was service, and she wasn't going to get away from that no matter who owned her contract. But what she did know was that the papilion splices – all of the splices, in fact – in the house she'd been born in were well kept – their rooms were clean, they were fed well, no one monitored their comings and goings, and they kept what they earned. The farm was a way of life, one that depended on the whole operation to work together in order to be successful. The pure human woman that owned it was a shrewd business woman who was at least fair, and everyone there loved her.

The same could not be said for Madam DeNue. Razo lived in a room where she was only barely able to  extend her wings . She cleaned it herself, but there were no detergents to use, and she shared a bathroom with six other girls that was only vaguely clean. She was expected to feed herself with the wages she earned, which were always the same, no matter how many clients she had, how long she spent with them, or how much the Madam charged.

The Madam knew Ibis and Razo liked each other; she would most likely dock Razo's wages for this visit.

All of it had grated on Razo since the day she'd woken up, dazed and confused, and found herself chained up in Madam DeNue's closet. Had she refused to work upstairs – _entertainment_ , the Madam liked to say – she'd still be chained there, allowed out to clean the common areas of the house and cook for the Madam. This way she at least had her own room, was allowed a shower every day and to go out once a week. She knew the thought of sex work repulsed some people, but it had never bothered her. Besides, she loved her body – loved her thick, brightly colored hair, the silk of her wings, the curve of her bottom, the grip of her thighs. When the clients were decent, it was nice to share it with them.

Decent, in reference to the clientele of a low-brow brothel, was subjective. Most were just lonely and broke. Razo didn't mind ugly or awkward. She did mind unclean, but that was more common than not. The abusive ones got her in trouble – more than once the Madam had threatened to break her wings and snip her antennae if she wouldn't comply.

All she really wanted was to go back to the life she'd been taken from. She didn't want anything she wasn't born to, didn't feel above her station, didn't pine for the life of a pure human or an Entitled.

Ibis coming to her, some two years ago now, had been fortuitous. He'd come to this particular house because he couldn't afford better – he was a Legionnaire, barely out of boot camp, young, and full of need. Madam DeNue had sent him up to Razo at the end of a very long night, giggling drunkenly when she'd made a joke about how much a rook splice would like her wings.

Razo had been less than pleased to see another client – she'd just been getting ready to shower. But she sighed, and opened her door, and closed it behind him with a disgusted look. “Clean yourself up,” she said impatiently as she gestured to the little table in the corner of the room where she kept the disinfectant. She pulled off her robe and straightened her bed before lounging on it. “What do you want?”

When she was settled she looked up at the man who'd just entered her room, only to find him looking around in confusion. He gestured mutely at the table for a moment before forcing himself to ask, “What do you want me to do?”

He looked so out of his element, she couldn't help but grin. He may as well have been a puppy. “You have absolutely _no_ idea what you're doing, do you?”

“No,” he replied with a laugh. His skin glimmered in the sunrise. “Can I just look at you for a moment?”

An unusual request, to be sure, but not a new one. Razo smiled and posed on the bed, stretching her wings out and daring a sniff from her antennae. “You're awful pretty. What's your name?”

“Ibis,” he replied.

She watched as his dark eyes took her in. “I'm Razo,” she said. He smelled clean, so she wouldn't push the disinfectant on him – it was harsh in her nose. “What can I do for you, Ibis?”

He tilted his head. “What's such a beautiful splice doing in a shithole like this?”

“I don't need to be charmed, you know,” she reminded him as she flitted herself off the bed and stood in front of him. “You've paid the Madam, you're going to get laid.” He chuckled. “How about we start by getting you naked, hm?”

Since then, he'd visited her every chance he could. He was injured in battle and lost an eye; while it was being replaced with a cybernetic one, he chose to convalesce there on Breceden, not much more than half a klick from Razo. When the Legion put up his contract, it'd been purchased by the Aegis, which suited him fine – less opportunity to die, more shore leave. Not _much_ more, but a few days here and there were precious.

During the brief leaves he was granted by the Aegis, had been able to track down the house Razo had been taken from, clear on the other side of the planet. He'd spoken to the owner, who did indeed remember a lovely blue-and-purple butterfly splice who'd disappeared. He'd been able to convince her that involving the authorities wasn't the most cost-effective course of action – for far less time and sheavework, she could hand over the money she'd otherwise have paid an advocate, and he'd bring Razo back.

This, of course, required precise timing. Madam DeNue wouldn't willingly let Razo go, and had faked the documents that indicated she owned the splice. Those could always be examined for authenticity, but that would take time, and before the first inquiry was filed Razo was sure she'd be dead.

She would not be the first girl “accidentally strangled by a client” under the Madam's roof.

So for now, they waited. Ibis had a handful of hours free today, but was due a proper leave in six months' time. It wasn't a guarantee that he'd actually get it – if the new captain was like the old captain, he'd be passed over for whichever pure human wanted a leave first. But he was patient; he'd wait and see.

And for now, draw his black irredecent hands up Razo's golden, flower-tattooed torso to cup her breasts, which fit perfectly in the palms of his hands. And he'd pinch her pert nipples, and watch the wicked smile he'd come to see spread across her face.

“Make me come,” she said as she drew a line across his lower lip with her thumb. “One more time, before she kicks you out.”

Ibis grinned right back. “Let me see your wings,” he begged, and she obliged, flapping them a few times to raise herself up just enough for him to make an adjustment before she flitted back down again, impaled and enraptured and moaning.

Afterward he gave her money for food, and a bag of candied flowers from the market. He kissed her deeply, asked her to be patient again, told her he would miss her. He opened the door just as Madam DeNue was about to knock, and then showed himself out as the two women exchanged dirty looks.

 

* * *

 

After two tours of duty in Abukesh, Captain Diomika Tsing was done.

Done with the Legion, done with fighting, done with constant life-or-death scrapes. She supposed this was a sign she was getting old and needed a recode.

The recode would certainly restore youthful vitality, and if one believed the hype, some brightness of mind. But lately, she'd been thinking that maybe those things were overrated. Some of the stupidest things she'd ever done in her life had been done following a recode.

Stinger Apini, for one. He might as well have been a buzzard splice for as cheerful as he was when he wasn't beating the shit out of someone.

Parting ways with the Legion – thank the gods that, as a human who owned her own geneprint, she wouldn't have to wait for a contract to expire in order to do as she pleased – meant she'd hopefully part ways with any necessary recodes, and Stinger, and other stupid things.

Different challenges lay in front of her. Getting used to a quieter life would be one. She'd just been installed as captain of an Aegis ship, and having a new crew to command would be its own challenge. It could go either way, really – they could be a beautiful, synchronous unit from the get-go, or they could be a rag-tag bunch of Splices and humans full of animosity and bitterness. She'd seen both in the Legion.

But Captain Tsing believed in service in leadership – she was there to command, certainly, but also to remove obstacles and provide tools.

So when she learned that her new crew had been idly waiting, for three months in orbit around Orous, for her to be installed, her first act was to grant them all shore leave.

Her second officer, a synth named Chatterjee, had blinked at her as she'd stood on the bridge and made this announcement.

“The whole crew, ma'am?”

Tsing nodded. “Yes, Lieutenant. Not long – we've got an assignment to track down some pirates that'll get underway soon – but 48 hours. I believe we'll all be better equipped for our work if we've been able to leave the ship and stretch our limbs.”

“Very generous of you, Captain,” said her first officer, Commander Percadium.

The captain shook her head a little. “Not generosity when you've earned it. I'd be stir-crazy myself, after three months in orbit with nothing to do but run diagnostics. Any suggestions where we might take our leave?”

The bridge crew was so stunned, there was silence for a long moment. Captain Tsing had mostly expected this – she knew her methods of command were uncommon, to say the least. But then, a deep voice from the navigation panel spoke.

“If I may, Captain?”

Tsing tilted her chin up.  “Your name?”

“Ibis, ma’am,” he replied, eyes surveying her carefully.

“You’re quite a pilot, Mr. Ibis,” said Tsing.  “I reviewed your Legion record – short, but rather impressive.”

If his skin hadn’t been black as space, Tsing was sure he’d have blushed.  “Thank you, Captain,” he said quietly.

“What is your suggestion, Mr. Ibis?”

“Ma’am, from where we are, we can reach Breceden in a blink.  No portal needed.  It’s tiny and hasn’t much in the way of industry – it’s a food producing planet, all greens and blues.  Not much there, but it’s warm and sunny, with crystal-clear beaches that stretch on for miles.”

“And,” interjected a smirking Lt. Chatterjee, “a particular  _someone_  who Mr. Ibis is quite fond of.”

Ibis had the decency to look sheepish when the Captain turned to face him with a raised, questioning eyebrow. 

“It’s a beautiful planet, Captain,” was all he offered in response.

The captain smiled at him.  “And I’m sure your friend is, as well.  Set a course,” she said crisply.  “I’d much rather a beach than Orous.  I’d much rather a  _firefight_  than Orous.”

A cheer interspersed with laughter at Ibis’ expense went up, but for his part, he didn’t much care.  He focused his attention on the controls, Razo and her warm, welcoming wings in the back of his mind.

 

* * *

 

Ibis had been one of the last off the ship.  He’d met Captain Tsing on his way out, and it hadn’t escaped her notice that he seemed to have freshened up before leaving. 

“Tell me about your friend,” said Tsing, as they walked down the corridor, off the little shuttle that had transported crew members from the ship in orbit to the surface of Breceden. 

“Her name is Razo,” supplied Ibis, feeling heat creep up his cheeks.  “I’ve known her almost three years now.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“Just before you took command, Captain,” he replied.  “A little more than three months.”

Tsing smiled over at him. “Nice surprise for her.”

“For both of us,” he said. “I wasn't expecting any leave at all for the next year at least.  Thank you, Captain.”

“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Ibis – enjoy your leave.”  She nodded and allowed him to outstrip her down the corridor and out of the ship.

She paused to take a look around once she exited herself. There were many other buildings in the complex near where the transport had landed, and crowds upon crowds of people.  She wasn’t quite sure which way she wanted to go first, but she did love exploring new places – it was what had led her to the Legion in the first place.

“Captain Tsing, if I may?”

She turned her head toward the voice which spoke her name.  It was Ibis, standing a respectable distance away. 

“Yes, Mr. Ibis?”

“There’s a market right down this way – all local stuff, some of it a bit kitschy, but plenty of artists.  And you won’t find a bad meal that way, either.”

She smiled at him.  “Well, I don’t know what could possibly top Legion or Aegis fare, but I’ll give it a try.  Thank you.”

Ibis nodded respectfully, and headed into the crowd.

Tsing headed in vaguely the same direction, but her steps were slower, more measured, and her eyes surveyed closely.  Ibis had been right – the planet really was beautiful.  It was lush and green, and the place he’d directed the crew toward was in the foothills of a mountain range.  The air smelled clean, and she spent several long minutes just standing in the sun’s warming rays.

A rumbling in her stomach drove her forward, and she meandered through the market toward the food smells. Her uniform netted her several samples, and when she found something she really liked – she wasn't sure what it was, but it was hot and savory – she bought it with a smile and a tip, and ate it while continuing to browse the vendors.

She watched the locals make bread and carve wood, elaborately decorate pastries and throw pots. Someone was blowing glass, someone else was painting faces, someone else was drawing caricatures. She watched a candy maker, which made her think of Stinger, and she promptly moved on.

She was watching with some degree of fascination as one of the vendors wove a rug – she'd always loved textiles and if the quality on display at the market was anything to go by, the gentleman doing the demonstration was both skilled and passionate – when she heard a faint trumpeting.

She thought it odd, that there should be an elephant, or an elephant splice, on a planet like this one which appeared to be untouched by the universe at large. And then she remembered that she had an elephant splice in her crew.

Mr. Nesh was running toward her through the crowd, trumpeting again to get her attention. Captain Tsing gave the rug-maker a regretful look, and hurried forward to meet him.

“What is it, Mr. Nesh?”

“There's a problem with Ibis,” was all he could say before he turned around and ran back the way he came. Tsing followed him.

He led her to a dilapidated, vaguely house-shaped building not far from the end of the market. The door was closed, and Nesh started banging on it, and trumpeting again.

“Nesh, what is the problem?”

“Ibis is inside,” he said. “I'm afraid he's hurt.”

It occurred to the captain then that Ibis and Nesh were likely close – one a pilot, one a navigator, they likely relied heavily on each other to do their work. If Nesh was panicking, there might be something really wrong.

Tsing banged on the door. “This is Captain Diomika Tsing of the Aegis. We have an officer inside; please open your door.”

Nesh stepped back, a clear indication that he, at least, recognized her authority, and her ability to help. There was no answer from inside, however, so she tried again.

“This is Captain Diomika Tsing of the Aegis. We have an officer inside. You will open this door or I will break it down!”

A small crowd had formed by this point, mostly made up of Aegis crew. Tsing counted backwards from ten, and was on the point of giving orders to Nesh to storm the house when the door opened.

A woman, appearing entirely human, stood in the doorway. She appeared to still be dressed in her evening clothes – a black gown with a high neckline, evocative of Entitled fashion but failing miserably in execution. Her head was bloodied, and she was angry. It occurred to Tsing that this was a brothel, and she was looking at its madam.

“I have your officer,” she spat. “You can come arrest him; he attacked me.”

Tsing scowled and pushed past the woman. The inside of the house was dark, and she had to pause to allow her eyes to adjust. When they did, and she wandered further into the house, she found Ibis, his uniform dusty, laid flat in the middle of a sitting room, a hulking man standing over him with a bloodied fist.

“Nesh! I want backup!”

Nesh did not need to be told twice; neither did any of her crew, and the room was soon a little too full of Aegis officers, many of them from security, pointing their weapons at the hulk, who backed down.

Percadium and Nesh picked Ibis up and made attempts at reviving him while the captain spoke to the Madam.

“What is your name?”

“Madam DeNue; I'm the owner of this establishment.”

“And what happened – why was Mr. Ibis in your sitting room?”

“I don't know,” she replied, her voice all gravel. “I was dozing in my chair one moment, and the next thing I know I've got a black eye and a filthy set of splice fingers around my neck.”

“I saw Ibis not half an hour ago when he disembarked; he was completely sober and had his wits about him. What could've happened?”

“I'm sure I don't know,” she spat back at the captain. “Damn splices are always going feral – ought to check them better before you let them out.”

Tsing glared hard at DeNue. “I will thank you not to use that kind of hateful speech in my presence, Madam DeNue.”

“Captain Tsing?” It was Chatterjee. “I believe her name is Razo.” She gestured to the stairs.

Tsing nodded in understanding, and she turned back toward the madam. “You have a girl named Razo?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Not in this house.”

But Ibis had been roused, albeit temporarily. “She lies, Captain,” he said weakly. “Razo. Upstairs.” And he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Tsing flicked her eyes at one of her crew holding the hulk at gunpoint; it was enough instruction for him to shift the weapon toward the madam, who immediately began protesting.

“You cannot go upstairs! I don't authorize this! This is a violation of my privacy. . . !” but it was mostly lost as the second silent instruction of Tsing's was followed by Chatterjee, who drew her weapons and led the way upstairs.

Madam DeNue followed Tsing and Chatterjee upstairs, complaining about her rights the whole way. By the time the captain had opened three doors, she informed the madam that she was being placed under arrest for multiple health code violations and her business would be closed down. That was before Tsing opened the door to Razo's room.

Inside, Razo was chained. The room wasn't big enough to start with, but she could barely have gotten to the makeshift latrine in one corner. The room smelled strongly of unwashed bodies – one of them was Razo's. Her antennae had been cut – crudely, if the scabs were anything to go by. And then there was the rather pitiful sight of her broken, flightless wings hanging limply and at odd angles.

Chatterjee aimed her weapon directly at Madam DeNue's head.

Captain Tsing demanded the key; once it was produced, she removed Razo's shackles gently.

“My name is Diomika Tsing,” she said. “I'm the captain of the Ageis ship your friend Ibis is posted to. Can you tell me what happened?”

Razo's eyes filled. “I flew,” she said. “I was fed up, and I flew away. I didn't get far.”

“Did Madam DeNue do this to you?”

Razo nodded. “Skol – he's he hulk downstairs – held me.”

Tsing suppressed a shudder. “We'll get you to the ship. Can you walk?” Razo nodded again, and shuffled to her feet. She managed to get down the hall, but a crew member ultimately carried her downstairs, and to the ship.

 

* * *

 

When all was said and done, the house was cleared by the end of the day. The hulk was arrested for his assault on Ibis, who was recovering in the ship's sickbay.

Madam DeNue was arrested for assault on Razo, and for health code violations. She was treated for the contusions Ibis had apparently inflicted and brought to the brig.

Razo spent the evening in sickbay. Her antennae wounds were tended to easily enough, but there was nothing that could be done for her broken wings. They were so badly damaged that they needed to be amputated; she was so upset that she needed to be sedated.

Ibis' concussion was easily tended to. But there was more than a concussion that needed to be addressed with Mr. Ibis.

He found himself standing in front of his captain, her first and second officers behind her. None of them looked happy.

“Mr. Ibis, did you attack that woman?”

Ibis was still angry. _That woman_ would be fined, her operation put out of business. But it was only temporary. She'd soon find another house, coerce or steal other girls. Meanwhile, Razo was flightless, her senses permanently disabled.

“Mr. Ibis?”

He met Captain Tsing's eyes. He wished they were less kind. “I did,” he replied. “She brutalized that girl – a few punches to the head hardly seems a fair exchange.”

“That isn't the point, Mr. Ibis. You must know I have no choice but to discharge you.”

He did know. He didn't blame her; she didn't make the rules. Except, if he weren't a splice, she could probably bend them.

“I understand, Captain.”

Captain Tsing nodded. “I'll enter it into your record. Your contract will be forfeit. I advise against advertising that.”

Ibis could only nod, surprised that she, a pure human, seemed to know anything about what might plague a Splice's life.

The captain let out a breath and shook her head. “I'm sorry, Mr. Ibis. I wish I'd gotten the opportunity to get to know you.”

He looked up at her. It didn't escape his attention that he was actually being treated fairly. “I feel the same, Captain Tsing.”

Percadium and Chatterjee escorted him out, leaving Tsing alone and miserable, full of regret that one of her first acts as captain of this vessel had to be to dismiss an incredibly capable pilot.

The rest of the crew, meanwhile, were repeating the story of what had happened on the surface – that she'd followed her crew's lead when they indicated there was trouble; that she'ddefended Ibis, and a Splice entirely unknown to her – and Captain Tsing's reputation as a leader began to bloom.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Ibis stood shoulder to shoulder with Razo on the edge of the market, and watched the transport head back to the ship he'd never see again.

“Do you not trust me?” he asked quietly. There was no malice in his tone, just frustration.

“I don't know,” she replied honestly. “I just wanted out.” She looked over at him. “What will we do?”

He shrugged. “There's always work, if you know where to find it,” he said. “I've heard bounty hunters are in demand. We could find a crew and join – or go on our own.”

“What about the farm?”

“You can go,” he said. “But you'd have to go without me.”

He looked over at her; she was plainly miserable – likely she was still in some pain, even with all the medical attention she'd received.

“You are still my beautiful papilion,” he said. “Razo – you always will be.”

“I want my wings back,” she whispered.

He smiled at her. “Then we will get them – that is our mission now.”

She smiled back. They joined hands, and forged ahead into the market to start their new, uncertain life together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a treat, and not a proper gift, because I apparently don't know how to work a calendar. I do hope you've still enjoyed this.


End file.
